


My Spot

by b_ann



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, College Student Castiel, College Student Sam, Enemies to Friends, ExCon Benny, F/M, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Parole Officer Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3482825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_ann/pseuds/b_ann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>THAT ATTRACTIVE MAN STOLE MY TABLE.</p>
<p>Ok, so the AU prompt was supposed to be: forced to share a table at the coffee shop a couple days in a row because crowded coffee shop and no room, but apparently I can't follow directions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Spot

"Son of a bitch!"

Sam pulled his attention away from the Barista in mid coffee hand off and almost lost his drink. "Sorry," he apologized before turning back to his brother. "What?"

Dean was shooting daggers toward their usual table at the back of the coffee shop.

"This is the third time he's been in my seat!"

Sam rolled his eyes and hefted his backpack further up on his shoulders. "You know you don't actually own that table. This happens to be a public establishment."

"Three and a half years, Sam." Dean decided on another table, the one with the second best vantage point, and pulled the chair out with his foot. "We've been getting coffee here at the same time every day since you started law school ... three and a half years ago." Dean shot another death glare the man's way. "He's not even looking at the exits."

It had been ingrained into both Sam and Dean at an early age that any time you were in public you were to pick the seat that gives you the best vantage point of everyone present and all of the exits. Be aware of your surroundings at all times. They were their Dad's rules, but they made sense, especially with Dean in law enforcement. 

But Dean wasn't watching the exits either. His eyes were glued to the back of the young man's head, who sat completely oblivious drinking his coffee, reading his book, and listening to something through white earbuds.

"Are you trying to get him to move by using the Force?"

Dean sighed, and his face relaxed a touch. "I'm sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night. One of my parolees ended up in county with a drunk and disorderly last night. Got me out of bed at two in the morning."

"How'd that go?"

"Well, he'll be spending the next thirty days there for interrupting my beauty sleep."

Sam chuckled. He knew how sweet and cuddly Dean was when he was awakened prematurely. "Speaking of your parolees, I forgot to tell you thanks for setting me up with Benny. Professor Rorche was practically gushing over my thesis proposal."

"Hey, no problem, man. Don't let him fool you though. Even though he keeps swearing he's only helping you out of the kindness of his court ordered heart, he can't stop blabbing about it. I think he likes you."

"Yeah, he's pretty cool, you know, for an excon." Dean and Sam took a sip of their coffee at the same time, and their attention was pulled back to Dean’s coveted table with the sound of the metal chair legs scraping across the floor.

"See," Dean said, waving his hand, "This is not the seat you were looking for, move along."

The man stood from his seat, white dress shirt impossibly wrinkled, and he shrugged into an oversized tan trench coat. He tucked his book under his arm and made his way to the door, still completely oblivious of Dean trying to will him gone.

"Hey, I know that guy," Sam said, finally getting a three quarter profile as he exited and walked across the glass front of the shop. Dean was already collecting his phone, keys and cup to relocate to the vacated spot. "He's in the ethics class I'm TAing for." Sam picked up his backpack and followed his brother but remained standing next to the table. It forced Dean to crane his head at what looked like an almost painful angle. "Novak something." He shrugged. "Well, I'm going to leave you to your unhealthy relationship with a table and see if I can't track down Jess before my first class."

Dean frowned, and Sam was sure he was going to complain about him leaving their morning ritual early, but instead he just said, "So when are you going to tap that?"

The comment only needed the swift slap across the back of Dean's head, which he got, but Sam also mumbled under his breath, "It's not like that. We're just friends."

"You need to just ask her out," Dean chuckled.

Sam flashed Dean his best bitch face, the one he only reserved for stupid comments from his brother. "Like hell I'm going to take relationship advice from you." He flung his backpack over one shoulder. "The next time you have something longer than a one night stand, you can come talk to me."

Dean curled his lip and flipped him the bird but Sam was already headed out the door.

~*~*~

When Sam entered the coffee shop the next morning, Dean wasn't sitting in his usual spot either. His arms were crossed and his jaw set, glaring over at the other table. Sure enough, the Novak kid was once again in his seat, trench coat folded over the table, book open, ear buds in, back to the exits.

"I even got here early, thirty minutes early," Dean growled as soon as Sam took his seat across the table. It looked like Dean's coffee had been set in front of him and then never touched.

"Dude, don't you think you're getting a little worked up about this?"

"It's my seat," he said and sounded every bit the petulant child he was being. Sam just rolled his eyes and they finished their morning coffee in silence.

~*~*~

"He's reading Dante's Inferno."

"And good morning to you, too." Sam sat down at the not-their table and dropped his bag on the ground next to his feet.

"Don't you think that's a little pretentious?" Dean was once again burning holes in the back of his newly declared arch nemesis' head.

"We're on campus," Sam scoffed. "It's probably required reading for a number of classes."

"But he's prelaw."

Sam frowned. "One: why would that matter? I had to read it in one of my undergrad classes. Two: why would you think he's prelaw?"

Dean pulled his gaze back to his brother. Sam was pleased at the moment's hesitation he saw flit across Dean's features.

"You said he's in your ethics class."

"You've put far too much thought into this, but you're wrong. It's a two hundred level class. It can be taken by non majors. In fact, I think he's British lit."

"Well, he's a pretentious British lit major." He took a gulp of his coffee. "Probably listening to classical music."

"I listen to classical music."

All Dean does is raise his eyes brows in an 'I rest my case' sort of way. There were a few moments of silence where Dean just stared at the kid's messy black hair and the collar of his white dress shirt (apparently that was the only thing he owned) that was flipping up weird in one spot.

"Last week he was reading Vonnegut."

"Dean, seriously, your favorite book is Slaughterhouse-Five."

"Yeah, but I don't read it in public!" Dean argued.

Sam just let it go. "So ..." Sam says holding the vowel too long and rolling his eyes. "We still on for Friday?"

Reluctantly, Dean pulled his gaze away from the pretentious British lit major super villain. "Yeah, I think so. Benny said he's gonna join us for coffee on Thursday so we can confirm then. Why?"

"Well," Sam said, the cardboard sleeve over his cup suddenly becoming extremely interesting. "I may have mentioned it to Jess."

"Did you invite your 'just friends' girlfriend to guys night?"

"It happened so fast. We were talking about bars we enjoyed and she mentioned O'Barsky's and I mentioned that we were going to be there this Friday ... One thing led to another," he said quickly and then his face fell in defeat. "She's coming."

~*~*~

"Is that him?" Benny's Cajun drawl had already attracted the attention of the girls behind the counter, and they were swooning now every time he spoke. Dean just took his drink and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, that's him," he spat with as much venom as he could muster.

There was a loud crash behind the counter, what sounded like a metal tray with glass mugs on it fell to the floor. It was apparently loud enough to cut through whatever _He_ was listening to on his ear buds, because it caught his attention for just a moment and Benny was able to get a good look at him.

"Oh," Benny said, taking a seat next to Sam, across from Dean. "Well I understand what all the fuss is about now."

"Thank you!" Sam said as if Benny was validating something Sam had been saying for years.

Dean shot them both a confused look.

"Brother," Benny drawled, "That man is all sorts of your kind of gorgeous."

"What?!"

Sam looked like he was going to explode.

"The guy is a total dick taking my seat and rubbing it in my face every morning!"

Both Sam and Benny laughed, but Dean didn't have a chance to defend himself, Sam was already changing the subject.

"So get this, my professor who's overseeing my thesis, Professor Rorche, he was really interested in your case and was wondering if you would come do a Q and A for the undergrad ethics class I'm TAing for."

Benny turned to Dean.

"It would look good at your next hearing," Dean affirmed.

"When were you thinking?"

"A week from today, next Thursday morning."

"That should work out fine with me, I have Thursdays off." Benny turned back to Dean. "Will you be there?"

"Yeah, I'll make sure I'm there."

"Awesome, thanks. So are we still on for tomorrow night?"

"Last I checked," Benny said with a shrug.

"How terrible would it be if I invited a friend?"

"More the merrier?" Benny said with a shrug.

"He means of the female persuasion," Dean helped and he received the appropriate bitch face for his efforts.

"Ah. I don't see any problem with that. Actually, if you've got a girl, maybe I could bring Andrea and we can get dinner at that Italian place across the street beforehand."

"Seriously?" Dean was whining and he knew it. "What happened to the sanctity of guys night?"

"So invite your boyfriend over there," Benny nodded in the direction of the Novak kid.

"Don't forget who signs your parole reports and keeps your ass out of prison."

"Seriously Dean, you've been mooning over him for two weeks now," Sam added unhelpfully.

"You guys are both assholes."

~*~*~

The next morning Dean was determined to get his table back. He pulled into the parking lot a whole hour before Sam was supposed to meet him, and he couldn't help the giddy feeling that swept over him when he peered through the glass window and saw his spot open. 

He grabbed his jacket, even though it wasn't that chilly. He was going to use it to hold his spot while he ordered his coffee. He wasn't going to let anything get in his way. He nodded quickly to his favorite Barista as he entered and turned to his table.

Son of a bitch! There he was. That jerk was pulling out his chair, setting his stupid backpack in the chair opposite, laying his stupid trench coat across the table, sitting down and pulling out his stupid book.

Freaking unbelievable.

Dean couldn't even be nice to the ladies behind the counter. He was sure he was just radiating hate as he sat down at what he was very worried was going to have to become his new table. And today, the guy was sitting with his back against the wall so Dean had a completely unobstructed view. 

He was reading Paradise Lost today, his blue eyes never leaving the page, his white earbuds in his ears, stark contrast to his dark messy hair and five o'clock shadow, which was ironic first thing in the morning. And he was smirking to himself. Sitting in Dean's spot!

Dean couldn't sit watching the guy smirk at him because he had won. He had successfully taken over Dean's space. He made the decision and stood to leave. He couldn’t even look in the guy’s direction. He’d just call Sam and tell him he couldn’t make it to coffee that morning. He was gonna see him later that night anyway.

 

"Charlie, you are a lifesaver." Dean wrapped his arms around the redhead's slight form. "I don't think I would have survived being the fifth wheel."

She pulled away from him with a smirk. "I don't have to pretend to be your girlfriend or anything, do I?"

"Of course not, I'm way out of your league." He tucked her under his shoulder in a gesture he felt would have been right at home with a brother and his younger sister.

"Ha. Ha," she deadpanned. "You'd be lucky to get me."

Dean pulled the door to the restaurant open, without removing his arm, and guided Charlie forward.

Charlie spotted Sam at a large u-shaped booth table to the right. He was wearing his best dress shirt, the blue one, with what looked like his new dark blue jeans. And he had obviously made an effort with his hair, but Dean wasn't sure of the results of said effort. The girls were between Sam and Benny, their heads together laughing at something. They were both beautiful, but it was obvious which one was Jess and which one was Andrea. While Andrea was more of a smoldering beauty, Jess was vibrant and full of life. They were the epitome of their male counterpart's tastes. 

It was Benny who spotted Dean first and raised his hand in a half wave. Charlie and Dean joined the table, Charlie giving Sam a quick half hug before sitting between him and Dean.

“Benny, this is Charlie, Charlie, Benny.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Charlie smiled and took Benny’s hand across from Dean.

“As have I,” Benny responded in kind. “This is my girlfriend Andrea.” Charlie grinned like a maniac and waved enthusiastically. “Andrea, this is Dean, my PO.”

“And Charlie, Dean, this is Jess,” Sam introduced.

Dean actually leaned across the table and shook her hand.

The idle chit chat moved from what each of them did for work, or in the case of Sam and Jess, what they hoped they would do for work after they graduated, to vehicles after Benny talked about his job at an auto shop across town. Dean mocked Charlie mercilessly for her choice of a yellow VW Bug and was more than a little impressed that Andrea actually rode an old Triumph that used to be her dad's. They had all managed to go through a couple baskets of bread and and probably more than enough wine by the time their food arrived.

“So is it weird to be hanging out with your Parolee?” Charlie, the ever tactful one, asked as she attempted to wrangle a noodle into her mouth. Dean was amazed she wasn't still single.

“We aren’t hanging out,” Dean said with a false bravado. “I am being a responsible PO and making sure that when he goes out he is obeying the conditions of his parole. And not being a dumb ass and getting himself into another drunken bar fight."

All Benny did was smirk.

"And who watches you?" Sam asked.

"That's what I have you for!"

Sam simply raised an eyebrow brow over the rim of his wine glass. He took a long drag from the drink and then pulled it from his lips just far enough to speak. "About that, when are we going to head over next door and play some pool?"

"I think that's a brilliant idea!" Charlie

"And get some more drinks," Dean said with a grin that was perhaps just a touch too wide. 

"As if you haven't already had enough wine, you lush," Charlie hit him playfully.

The dinner hadn't really offset the amount of alcohol Dean had consumed, and it was rather obvious as the group made their way next door to the bar. He was sporting a pretty decent buzz, and he couldn't help tease Sam as Jess made the first move and grabbed his hand.

They were all laughing and carrying on as made their way passed the pool tables to the back where the booth they always claimed was.

It wasn't open. There was only one guy sitting in the booth that could hold at least six people. Before Dean could grumble about people who took large tables when there were small tables available, he recognized him.

"Oh my god, it's him." Dean turned to tell Sam or Benny how annoying this guy was but he had lost them. The girls were getting a pool table set up and Benny and Sam were at the bar opening a tab. Then they'd be over to sit down in the booth that was currently occupied by this douche bag. And he was reading ... in a bar. Who reads in a bar?

This was the last straw, he had to end this. He gathered up his courage that was probably bolstered by the buzz he was sporting, and stomped over to the guy.

"Dude?! What the fuck? What? Stealing my seat at my coffee shop wasn't enough for you? You had to take my booth at my bar too?"

The boy, or rather man, now that he got a nice good, close look at him, and yeah, definitely a man, looked up from his book with shock.

"Seriously? What do you have against me?"

The man stared up at Dean, his blue eyes wide, and then blinked about seven times in quick succession.

"Who are you?"

Dean's crazy, not exactly drunk, tirade came to a screeching halt. Of all the sounds he had expected to come from the other man, that voice was not one of them. It was dark and rich and full and sounded like it had been dragged behind a car for miles on a gravel road. And then the actual words caught up with him.

"Who am I?" Dean asked, suddenly feeling very light headed.

The man's mouth made an oblong O shape, his eyebrows high and knit together, and wow his eyes were really blue.

"I don't know who you are."

And there it was. This malicious man who Dean had dubbed his enemy wasn't malicious at all. He was innocent, just an innocent student, getting a coffee each morning, reading, admittedly, appropriate college level books, and now he was simply trying to enjoy his beer and burger. And Dean was the asshole trying to ruin it.

"You really have no idea who I am?" And even to himself his voice sounded desperate.

"No. Who are you?" He asked again.

Dean took a step back and damn near tripped over his own feet.

"No one. I'm nobody."

~*~*~

On Monday morning Sam didn't say a word about how Dean's coveted table was unoccupied or how Dean was very clearly not sitting there despite that fact. He didn't tell him he looked like shit, which he most definitely did, not having slept well the last couple nights. And he didn't even mention Dean's epically stupid display over the weekend, which was most likely the reason he hadn't slept well.

Dean felt like an idiot, a narcissistic idiot. And the guy wasn't even there to apologize to. Dean groaned and hid his face in his arms on the table.

Sam never said anything.

~*~*~

Tuesday the guy wasn't there either. Sam tried to pull Dean into a conversation about Jess, who he was considering asking out on a real date that following weekend, but Dean was so distracted keeping his eyes open for that crazy messy dark hair and blue eyes.

~*~*~

Wednesday some cute petite blonde girl attempted to sit at _the_ table but quickly collected her things and left after Dean shot her what he was sure was a bitch face to rival Sam's.

No one else sat there.

~*~*~

Thursday Dean was thankfully distracted by Benny and his prep for speaking in Sam's ethics class. Mostly. He may have given the coffee shop a quick once over when they got their drinks to go. But he most definitely didn't keep his eyes peeled the entire trek across campus looking for tousled hair and blue eyes or even that ugly tan trench coat. Nope.

"You know he's going to be there," Sam whispered to Dean while the insanely ostentatious Professor Balthazar Roche explained some of the points he wanted Benny to cover to tie in with the curriculum of his class.

Dean must have given him a face.

"Novak. He's a student in my class, remember?"

Dean hadn't remembered. Why hadn't he remembered that? Suddenly he was wired, trying to figure out exactly what he was going to say to the guy to apologize for being a grade A douche bag. Sam just chuckled and left him to his thoughts.

By the time they actually made it over to the classroom, the theater seating was pretty much full, except for the first two rows. The only students who sat in the first few rows were geeks and kiss asses.

"Ok, ok," Sam said trying to get the class' attention while Dean scanned the students for him. "Ash!" Sam almost yelled and a student with, was that a mullet?, who was sitting on the back of one of the chairs, turned around with his feet on the seat of the chair in the row behind his, turned his attention to the front.

"Sorry, boss," he saluted and sunk down into his chair.

"First of all I wanted to warn you guys that the campus email is going to be down for maintenance on Sunday at 10 for an indeterminate amount of time. So if you are planning on waiting until the last minute to turn your papers in via email you can't use that as an excuse. They have to be in my inbox by midnight, no exceptions. And if you are turning it into my mailbox, make sure you get it time stamped. No timestamp, no grade."

Dean couldn't help but smirk at that. His brother was a bit of a hard ass. Just then the door opened and three students hussled in, apologizing for being late. And there he was, his books clutched to his chest instead of in a backpack, his oversized trench coat and crazy sex hair. Without even a hesitation he took a seat in the second row, the other two girls trotting up the stairs to the back of the room.

Sam shot a pointed look at Dean and then continued addressing the class, introducing Benny. But Dean was no longer listening to him. He pushed himself off the side wall when Benny went to the front of the classroom, but Dean stopped at the second row and sauntered to the seat right next to Novak. Their eyes met and the guy had a horrified look on his face.

"Is this your seat too?" He hissed, trying to keep his voice low. He shot Dean a nasty sneer. When Dean didn't say anything, he grabbed his notepad and leaned forward to get out of his seat.

Without even thinking Dean reached out and grabbed the student by his arm, pulling him back down into his seat. His face turned from anger to confusion and perhaps even to fear. They just stared at each other until Novak's gaze dropped to his arm where Dean was still gripping. Dean jumped a little at the realization and removed his hand, pressing a finger to his lips before pointing at Benny who was now going over his story.

The student scoffed but pulled his attention away from Dean. Once Benny was done explaining his experience in the court system, prison and now as a parolee, he opened it up for questions, beginning with a few directing ones from Sam.

Dean leaned back in his chair a little and brought his right leg up to rest his boot on his other knee. That put his thigh right up against Novak's. Dean didn't look, but caught the other man glancing over at the spot where their legs touched out of the corner of his eye. But he didn't move or shift away from the contact and that sent a stupid thrill up Dean's spine.

If anyone asked Dean what Benny had talked about he probably could have bullshitted through an answer knowing his background, but to be perfectly honest he hadn't paid any attention to him whatsoever. He was still going over exactly what he was going to say to the man sitting next to him to get him to forgive how stupid Dean was and maybe get a date out of him. And yes, he was aware of how fucked up that was. Dean jumped when the class started clapping, he assumed to thank Benny. Liberal Arts students. So weird. 

But as soon as Dean turned his attention back, the guy had gathered his things and was quickly making his way down the aisle heading straight for the door.

"Shit!" Dean swore, getting out of his seat in a rush. The guy was already out the door by the time Dean made it to the stairs. Sam shot him a concerned look as he passed but he didn't have time to explain. He burst through the door with more force than he had intended and offered a hearty flinch as apology. He actually had to run to catch up with the guy, and when he grabbed at his arm he was met with very blue and very pissed off eyes.

"What?! What do you want from me? I'm not going to the coffee house anymore, I won't go to the bar anymore, I kind of have to go to class if I intend on passing ... so what?! What do you want from me?"

"I'm Benny's parole officer."

"What?"

"Benny, the guy speaking in your class today. I'm his PO and Sam is my brother. I'm not a student."

Dean could see him processing the information and trying to figure out what it had to do with anything.

"And I'm sorry."

He cocked his head to the side, his brows knit together. He didn't say anything.

"That night at the bar, I was a jerk. I had too much to drink, and it was a game that apparently only I was aware of. And I'm sorry. Can I get a Mulligan?"

Now he was full on frowning, his lips pulled into a tight line, and shit if he wasn't ridiculously attractive right at that moment. And with that realization Dean knew he would do just about anything to get a second chance with the guy.

"A Mulligan?"

Dean chuckled. "A do over. Start from the top." His only response was to squint his left eye and turn his head just a fraction to the right. Dean took a deep breath and held his hand out. "Hi, my name is Dean Winchester, I'm not a student here, my brother is, law school, I'm a parole officer for the county, I start my day off every morning with a Caffe Americano from the coffee shop not too far from here, and I would like to share a table with you there."

He eyed Dean's hand suspiciously and there was a flicker of fear that the man was just going to leave him hanging. He sighed, his eyebrows lifting, resituated his books into his left arm and finally took Dean's hand.

"Hello. My name is Castiel Novak, I _am_ a student here, I like white chocolate mochas, I love hamburgers," he paused then and narrowed his eyes one more time. "And I suppose we could share a table ... on one condition: you are not allowed to mock my reading choices ever again."

Dean gasped, pulled his hand from Castiel's grip and pointed an accusing finger at his chest. "You did notice me!"

The muscles pulled at the corner of Cas' mouth into what Dean would consider a smirk. "You have a nice ass."

Yeah, they could definitely share the table.

**Author's Note:**

> I may be talked into writing some more in this little universe. You know, if someone wants that, but you have to tell me.
> 
>  
> 
> Let me know what you think and visit us on tumblr!  
> <http://kelly42fox.tumblr.com>  
> <http://brittlipy.tumblr.com>


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